


Relive, Release

by afearfulbride



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, M/M, Pre-Recall, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afearfulbride/pseuds/afearfulbride
Summary: Lonely, miserable and frustrated, Hanzo seeks relief in the privacy of an omnic brothel- only to find that his choice in company is not so silent or mindless as he first assumes. edit: formerly titled "Redeem, Release".





	1. Chapter 1

"Just remember," the bouncer had warned him. "You break it, you buy it. These things don't come cheap."

*

Redemption was not won on indulgence. For months, years now, Hanzo had lived his life in _seiza_ , grinding his knees and his pride to the bone in penance that never seemed to yield atonement. But such isolation bred loneliness, no matter how Spartan the life he imposed upon himself. At night he tossed and turned, haunted not only by his own thoughts but the hand between his legs, his touch as limp and cold as an eel; it was like trying to scratch an itch just beyond his reach. Self-denial couldn't blot out the images that wandered through his mind, memories of his father's brothels across Hanamura. Places he'd frequented only as an invested spectator on some lesser Shimada thug's visit. Most of them had been human, but one or two...

Hanzo had no love for omnics- for their blank, faceless heads, the hum of synthetic voices, their cold hands. But seeing another human, male or female, would always carry risks he was unwilling to take. An omnic couldn't get pregnant or sick, and, aside from anything else, had inbuilt protocols to ensure their client's identity would never be shared. No matter how careful he had been he was still a wanted man.

Besides. All he needed was a warm hole to fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.

There had been no red lights and no suggestively-named "massages" advertised on the door. Just a wary human doorman and a smoky corridor. Almost as soon as he entered Hanzo found himself wondering if he'd made the right choice. The lounge was as dim and dingy as in any other cathouse- something to do with "mood lighting", he supposed, to keep the goods from being examined to closely- but as his eyes adjusted the rest of him did not. Omnics. Sat on sofas, holding glasses of whiskey for their Johns, standing listlessly to attention. To Hanzo's eyes they looked like a small army of silvery-grey bodies, differentiated here and there by only their clothing and the suggestion of artificial breasts and genitalia beneath. The prospect of picking one was almost enough to put him off the prospect of fucking it afterwards- but he could smell the sex in the air, could almost taste it, and frankly he was too pent up to resist. He peered about the room, eyes narrowed, and forced himself to decide.

This one. Not so tall as some of the others, with a masculine frame draped in loose, light clothes. On its brow glowed a grid of teal dots, below which two slanted vents gave a sense of eyes. Perhaps they were what drew Hanzo to it in the first place, those eyes; they had about them a sense of calm that struck the elder Shimada as a profound luxury, even lustful in their excess. They made him only too aware of the bruised-plum darkness of his own eyes and the hollows in his cheeks. What right did it have to such peace?

Impulsively, as if to shake sense into it, he seized its arm and found it deceptively warm to the touch. His fingers wrapped around its wrist with room to spare but gave Hanzo pause nonetheless. It left him uncomfortably aware of the body to which it was attached, heavier than he expected in spite of a build so slight it seems almost fragile. He hesitated- and, worse still, it tilted its faceplate up to his in response, as if it not only had eyes but a gaze more than capable of cutting straight through his skull.

Briefly, he considered leaving. But his pride would not allow him to be cowed by a whore, least of all an omnic whore. He tugged on its wrist and honed his voice to flinty disdain. "Come," he commanded. "I have made my choice."

"Very well." Its voice came in a resonant, male baritone that caught him, yet again, by surprise; he'd half-expected it to be mute by design, and he wasn't sure he much appreciated the revelation that it was not. "Please, come with me."

With a small bow at the waist, it lead him past a curtain and towards the dingy rooms beyond with more of that light-footed grace Hanzo was quickly learning must have been characteristic- as though the metal of its body were liquid. At the appropriate door it stopped and passed its fingers over a keypad, before beckoning him inside.

As soon as the door sealed closed behind them, whispering an assurance of discretion, what few clothes it wore slipped from its body like water from a stone. The body beneath was just as those first glances promised, all bright chrome and lustrous gold accents by the dim light above. In a more generous temper Hanzo supposed he might called it beautiful, in its own abstract way, but his generosity had long been worn thin. More importantly. the standard modesty plating between its legs had been discarded, and at its groin he spotted the sleek, segmented curve of its cock; beneath it, he knew, sat a silicone cunt, almost invisible from his position. 

It was the latter on which he very deliberately focused. Whatever curiosity stirred within him at the sight of the omnic's erection was just as swiftly quelled by the thought of impaling himself on metal, bowed over and whining. Never. Hanzo pulled loose the knot of his belt and it fell to a soft snake at his feet. "Kneel."

"As you wish."

Again, his voice formed a soft ripple in the air between them. It occurred to Hanzo that he could order it to be silent. Instead he found himself unaccountably staring as the omnic assumed the position, until palms and knees press into the mattress and his back formed a gentle curve hung between broad shoulders and narrow hips. Yet even as it knelt it glanced back at him, calmly and evenly and with a tilt to its head that some might even have called curious. Hanzo could only call it insolent. It infuriated him.

Without thinking he flattened his palm and whipped it across its ass, relishing the way its voice warbled and its hips rocked with the impact. "Do _not_ try me, omnic." Would he have done as much to another human? Hanzo doubted it somehow. Something about this thing invited his anger like few others did.

It hummed- but in the next moment said, quietly, "Of course not."

Satisfied, he loosed the haori from his shoulders with a whisper of fabric. He could still feel every stolen glance caressing his form like the softest of silks, skimming firm, rounded muscle and toned waist- only to snag between his legs, on the half-hard cock he took into his hand and stroked from base to head. And for just a moment, he could have sworn he saw the omnic tremble with anticipation.

Hanzo's pride swelled greedily in his chest, and with it his arousal like hot sunbursts beneath his skin, as though the dragon inked above his heart were breathing new life into his blood.

His heart began to pound.

"Oho?" Slowly, deliberately, he paced towards the omnic, luxuriating in the feel of his own body: the tension in his muscles, the weight of his balls as he walked, the heft of his erection. Simple, unthinking pleasures. God, but it felt good to escape thinking. "Have you been waiting for this?"

He knelt behind it. With one hand he cupped its ass, feeling lower and then lower still until his fingers found the soft, pliant lips between its thighs, already slick with lubricant. As expected. What he did not fully expect was the shudder that wracked its body, or the way it squirmed its hips first away and then needily, helplessly back into his touch. In his head Hanzo imagined advanced protocols, a relay of sensory input and constructed reaction. Yet as his thumb grazed its clit the noise it made was a staggeringly _natural_ gasp, soft and silvery- and _just_ enough to make his heart skip a beat. His own cock twitched urgently against the omnic's inner thigh.

Taking the shaft into his hand- and now he couldn't ignore it, fat and swollen and pulsing in his palm- he aligned himself with the omnic's entrance. The head kissed against its folds, and he had to pretend he didn't see the precum bubbling at its tip and smearing a glistening line in its wake. The omnic made no such efforts, already venting steam with discreet little clicks and hums that betrayed desire at every turn. Then, grunting, he pushed the head between those slickened folds and into its body, feeling silicone strain and stretch to welcome him into the hot core within. 

The sound lurched out of Hanzo before he could cage it in his throat. Man, woman- he'd never felt anything like this before, snug about his glans as a satin glove. Whatever self-control he'd deigned to demonstrate before the omnic evaporated. In a matter of moments he found his hips driving forward and bottoming him out in artificial cunt with a soft _shlick_.

Wave upon wave of pleasure lapped demandingly at Hanzo's senses. Its inner walls clenched around his dick, ribbed and almost undulating as it adjusted beautifully to his size. His shoulders quivered as he straightened up again (when had he slumped?) to admire his handiwork. Beneath him, whatever trappings of serenity the omnic had until then held onto were already beginning to fracture; long metal fingers clutched at the sheets, servos whirring to life in a symphony of unspoken sensation. All the while its hips spasmed helplessly back against his abdomen for more. 

Hanzo sucked in a breath to steady himself, then began to move. Slowly at first, savouring the long, suckling friction along his length before gliding back in: again, and again, and again, until his hips slammed almost painfully into smooth, rounded metal in a bitter counterpoint to the pleasure. Every snap of his hips slid him deeper and deeper into the clutching velvet heat of omnic cunt, each thrust hungrier than the last. All the while the omnic squirmed and whined, damping his skin with breath-hot steam. Its hips bucked back into him, deepening each stroke until it seemed there was no end to what the thing could take into the melting slick between its legs. He couldn't see it, but he imagined its cock bobbing, dribbling, with every impact.

Like this it seemed as base and predictable as the rest of its brothers. All it had taken to put it back in its place was a good cock. And that only wound him all the tighter. All this thing needed to fulfil its crudest, its most _vulgar_ , of directives was lie still and be fucked.

"Such a simple creature," he spat out, voice hitching on every hardened syllable, breaking and then broken by pleasure and unspent rage, "so _easy_ to satisfy."

Suddenly the angle wasn't enough. He hitched himself forward inch by inch until the omnic's hips were all but climbing his lap, all the delicate pistons in his waist crunched together before him. Pure instinct drove his hands to its ass, gripping hard before _dragging_ the thing onto his cock with an audible slap of skin on wet metal. And at long last its body buckled to his aggression like a willow in a gale and sank ass-up into the sheets, its voice stuttering with the effort of its pleasured sobs. Did it hurt? He _wanted_ it to hurt, again and again--

Only then did Hanzo feel the tell-tale prickle in his balls, taste the blood beading on his lower lip- and come, hard, into the omnic's body with a white-hot wave of pleasure and spent anger. For one blissful moment he was floating, mindless, boneless. But before he could savour it, reality dragged him rudely back into the cage of his senses (of course, as it always did, with that familiar, crushing inevitability), leaving him slumped and sweaty and sticky, panting over the omnic's spine as his seed filled the aching space within.

A grunt escaped Hanzo's throat. Now that the moment had passed he felt the distaste begin to creep in where there had been pleasure only a few moments earlier. As he slipped back onto the mattress a few thick strands of cum connected them for a few moments longer before the omnic fell face-forward. Between its thighs its cunt was a gaping, twitching mess of cum and slick, spread to him for just a few moments before it gathered itself together and forced itself onto its elbows, then knees. A pool of tealish-white liquid stained the mattress where it had lain, and as Hanzo's eyes wandered he spotted the source: its cock, still beading at the tip.

The omnic rose, and as it moved semen drooled obscenely down its thighs. Ambivalent or not, it pleased Hanzo immensely to see the way it swayed on his feet, as though he were not the one lounging dreamily on the sheets and still drunk on desire. _Good._ Damned thing deserved to feel it for days.

Eventually it retrieved a towel and tissues and knelt back into place beside him. "Allow me." Taking a couple of them it moved forward on its knees to clean the slick from his groin. Its hands worked efficiently enough, but there was an odd sensitivity about the way they moved that unsettled him immensely, made the blood begin to thrum in his ears again as its fingers drew up and along his softening shaft- until, seamlessly, it continued: "My purpose is to please you. Failing that, I might at least tidy you up."

Immediately, Hanzo's mouth tightened to a fine, hard line. "What?" 

It was the kind of tone that had set even the steeliest of his men on edge back in Hanamura. But the omnic merely shrugged its shoulders, barely lifting its gaze. "You do not seem pleased. Just an observation."

"You are not paid to offer observations."

"I am not paid at all," it answered, with something like wan amusement, "but I take your point."

"Noisy creature." But the aggression had already begun, inexplicably, to fade from his voice; in the end he simply lounged back and watched the omnic from beneath half-lidded eyes like an ill-tempered cat. By the time it finished want had begun to pool in his stomach all over again, nursed by feather-light ministrations. It had the hands of a pianist, Hanzo decided, slender and quick. "You will not have me again."

"I will not have _you_?" There it was again, that amusement, glimmering like embers amongst the coals. Its hand ghosted across the dense curve of his thigh to discard a tissue and the muscles jumped obediently, traitorously, beneath. "My protocols are not so rote as you assume. I have no need to court your attention again."

Hanzo gave a disdainful snort. "You made enough of a mess yourself. You enjoyed it."

"I did not deny that." Its free hand fluttered down to his groin, to the cum and the lubricant staining its metal plating. "But if I am to be completely honest, you are rather a selfish lover." A beat. Colour flooded Hanzo's neck, his eyes widening fractionally with his disbelief, and the omnic cocked its head. "I suppose I am not paid for honesty, either."

Hanzo's muscles leapt before he could so much as think. One second they're sat side-by-side, the omnic almost in his lap; the next he's slamming it back again onto the mattress hard enough to bruise another human, legs splayed shamelessly about his hips. Blood throbbed dizzyingly, furiously in his ears. He could do anything, he realised, between these four walls, to this meaningless collection of parts, and walk out without another word. He would break it, and buy it, and sleep well that night. Only as he looked down at the omnic did it occur to him that, with the initial wave of aggression ridden out, he didn't know what that _anything_ would look like.

In the end he could only snarl and mouth like a domesticated wolf. "You made no such complaints while I fucked you, omnic."

"You," it said, with such serenity as to put him to shame, "are being very dramatic."

Hanzo considered this. He also considered holding it down and fucking it into obedience again on the spot, wishing for a moment that it had a mouth to stop with cock. Instead, to even his own surprise, he said, "You must have a name."

There came a silence.

"I have been given many designations." The omnic stared up at him, unrelenting. The dots on its brow flickered in thought. "But never a name. Perhaps one day I will choose one for myself."

Hanzo's mouth twitched. He traced his thumb up and over the line of its jaw, elegantly crafted in the molten underground heart of some distant factory. "Foolish hopes," he said darkly, "for a foolish creature. You may never even leave this place."

"The wheel will turn in its own time. I am a patient man."

Hanzo hesitated... then, begrudgingly, gave in. _He_ , then. Before he could speak, however, the omnic edged himself up onto the spindly metal of his elbows and cocked his head in that odd, demanding way of his. Still it stripped him bare. "You have not told me your name, either, you realise? Of course," he offered playfully, "I could call you 'master'. Some still like to hear that."

"I am master of nothing," Hanzo shot back with such unexpected venom that it startled even him, not for its force but its honesty. The words soured on his tongue, singed- and, in their wake, numbed him as efficiently as an anaesthetic. Whatever pride might have held his shoulders square slipped away into the dark like forgotten promises, empty and useless. "Nothing at all."

Exhausted, he closed his eyes- but a large, cool hand palmed his cheek, the thumb catching on his lip and the fingers combing into his hairline. "We are all masters of our own destiny." The omnic's voice filled the space between them with a low, furtive thrum that coaxed his skin into gooseprickles, vibrating. "Even you and I."

For a moment he hung over the omnic's body, eyes shut, hair straggling over his shoulders, body weak. Then at long last he dropped his forehead gently against the omnic's brow until the red-raw inside of his eyelids glowed a dreamy blue, and said, "... Hanzo."

A second hand found the back of his neck to curl almost lovingly against his skin. "Rest a while with me, Hanzo. You have time."

The resistance slipped from Hanzo's bones. Without a word, he sank beside the omnic, and, for the first time in what felt like years, into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you for such a friendly reception! I'm really glad I decided to give posting here a shot. Secondly, I wanted to use this chapter as a space to explore a younger, less certain Zenyatta as well as Hanzo. There are also a few notes at the end for some of the references I make. Thirdly, please note that there is some passing reference to needles and tattooing in this chapter.

Hanzo returned. Of course.

Days had passed, and, like any long-standing hunger to have been newly sated, his desire had returned with a feverish vengeance. The first night alone had been blissful. The second restless. The third... the third night, he'd dreamed with such intensity he'd awoken sweating and panting and half-hard over sensations he couldn't remember- and over a waking dream of nine even lights against the blackness of his ceiling. Above him the fan cut a breath into the heavy night air and his flesh prickled and crept, unable or unwilling to be mortified by its own hands.

Hanzo Shimada was not a man unaccustomed to ghosts. For years he could scarcely look in a mirror without seeing the dark, empty eyes of a dead man staring accusations back at him. Some forces, he knew, could never be appeased- only endured as a man should endure any punishment, with dignity and contrition. But this was an omnic, as real as he was, no matter how far his imagination stretched to encompass him. What Hanzo needed to do was put his fear to rest- to prove to himself that it was a matter of appetite rather than anything so dangerously specific as desire. Just so long as he did not meet _that_ omnic. Anything but that omnic, too clever and fascinating by far for him, in his weakness, to resist.

He would go back, and he would pick another omnic, and take it, and sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. Then he would forget ever having visited _them_ in the first place.

The brothel was as he left it, cool and shadowy as any secret. What he hadn't counted on was the effect that seeing his original companion would have on his self-control; all it had taken was a glimpse of chrome and gleaming lights for his resolve to be tested. He'd made his pick as quickly as possible, just for an excuse to turn his back. But the omnic he'd chosen had been, for all intents and purposes, the one he'd wanted on that first night. About it clung an odd air of nervousness and apathy that set him on edge from the moment the door closed on them. It had arched its back and made all the right sounds, but it had felt as thin and insubstantial in his hands as gauze. Hanzo had finished quickly across its belly and left without a backwards glance. Only then could he admit defeat.

The bouncer scarcely has a glance for him as he sidles into the parlour, but that doesn't matter. Even on this, his third visit to the brothel, he has not yet shed the feeling of being watched, as though any one of the men in the room might turn and call his name at any moment. More than anything, however, purpose granted Hanzo a sense of invulnerability. The second his target floated into view he powered towards them without a backwards glance.

Tonight the omnic's slender frame had been draped in something light and semi-sheer that reminded Hanzo, irresistibly, of his father's old _bijin_ prints; they'd fascinated him as a youth, those red-lipped, white-skinned women, lounging with breasts bared and faces smooth and impassive as a doll's. Erotic boredom. His wandering eyes caught the impression of his cock, as soft as it could be in steel, beneath the fabric and his throat constricted, just for a moment.

"Once more you come to me," the omnic said neutrally. His voice was velvet-soft and rich in his ears. Alone it was enough to stir something within him, something Hanzo would like to have called predatory but which he knew he must name _needy_ instead. It left him twitching with impatience, even as one metal hand came to rest on his bicep, with fingers almost long enough to meet around the muscle. "Shall we?"

Together they trod the now-familiar path to the omnic's room. As the door closed the omnic glided over to a chest of drawers Hanzo hadn't even noticed on his first visit. They hadn't wasted much time, then. Tonight however he found even his considerable impatience reined in; he waited as fresh sheets were retrieved and spread across the mattress by those quick, clever hands.

Then, still bent over the mattress, the omnic startled him by speaking first. "I saw you a few days ago."

As Hanzo thought he had. Expectation, however, did little to mollify the sharpness of his response. "What of it?"

He spoke with the kind of defensive arrogance that demanded response, the verbal equivalent of a thrown gauntlet. But the omnic did not meet it. Instead, he rose from where he stood, back still turned. "I simply did not expect to see you again."

Then that candour disarmed him all over again. "They were," Hanzo lied, almost forgetting to do so, "not so attentive as you."

The omnic made a neutral sound that could have been amusement, then shed its robe. Every wire and plate lay exposed to him, an intricate puzzle of metal that his eyes alone would not comprehend in its entirety. They demanded hands. "And you believe you have my complete attention, Hanzo?"

The coil of his belly tightened. There was, he knew now, something forbidden in the sound of his name in this room, in that _voice_ , that loosed a dark thrill down his spine. It almost felt like relief. Hanzo dry-swallowed. "I know I do."

He crossed the floor in a matter of two paces, stepping out of his sandals as he moved. When the omnic failed to turn he snaked an arm about his waist and jerked him flush to his chest, shuddering to find him as warm and smooth as his body remembered. One hand flattened across pistons and plates, dipping to the boundary of his pelvis and lingering there, while the other slid up to hold the omnic's jaw. Each nick and scratch in the gilt revealed itself to the pads of his fingers, once after the other. It occurred to him that, since their last meeting, he'd been thinking of the omnic as somehow immaculate.

"You have been ill-used since our last meeting."

The omnic gave an indeterminate hum. "No worse than the ways in which you have used me already. They have always been there."

"But you do not deny that you have been used." The revelation unsteadied him. His question had been dispassionate and asked without any desire to protect the whore as such, yet it was jealousy that he found boiling up in his throat. It must have shown on his face because the omnic startled him all over again with a laugh as light and candid as a bell. In that moment he could have hated him for it, that laughter, were it not so...

"No. I have seen other clients." The dots on his brow flickered with the aftershocks, a silent chuckle Hanzo felt rippling through the heart of him. "Does that bother you?"

"Of course not," Hanzo snapped. But it did, and the fact that he couldn't explain why was almost worse than the feeling itself. 

Even the omnic did not bother to question him. Instead he gave a soft, dismissive sigh and glanced back, glowing languidly over his shoulder. "Shall I kneel again?"

It was the complacency that rankled more than anything, Hanzo realised, that _again_ , as though he were so wildly predictable that he scarcely warranted more than a look. Not for the first time he found himself marvelling at the power this omnic could place in a single, expressionless glance. 

Last time he looked at him that way he'd struck him for his insolence.

Now, though, he drew in a deep, unsteady breath to force down his irritation. He dropped his hand to the base of the omnic's cock and pulled him back all the harder against the hard lump at his own crotch, half-rutting against his back and groaning quietly at the friction.

The omnic gave a startled chirp, hips jerking at the expected contact in an unexpected place, and all at once confidence surged through him and into his touch. It drove his hand to cup the omnic's erection, test its warm weight against his palm as his fingers made sense of a smooth, silicone head and each lit nodule leading up to it like the path to an idol- and let a smug little smile crook his lips at the way they brightened along the seams at the attention.

"It seems I am capable of surprising you yet, omnic. Do not move."

In truth, Hanzo had still not decided what he wanted to do with the omnic; his fantasies until now had run a Bacchic riot, which, while compelling enough for his hands to work his own body, did little to guide them now. Too many choices, too few fingers. Nor could he stand here and grind on him for much longer. After a moment's thought he eased the two of them back towards the mattress, kneeling with legs slightly parted and his partner held between his arms and his lap. Compliant as a doll, the omnic straddled him, thighs splayed obscenely around his lap in a pretty silver frame for his cock and cunt; whatever Hanzo couldn't see over his shoulder he retraced in his memory with his touches, invasive and aggressive as they seized possession of soft plump lips and nodes and silky-smooth chrome, one after the other. 

By the time his fingers met the head of the omnic's cock they gleamed with his arousal. Both of those elegant hands wrapped about his wrists, tightly, but without any effort to stop him.

"I see," the omnic said, and there was in his voice just the faintest hint of a tremor, "you are trying to make a point."

Hanzo wanted to grip, just to hear the omnic whimper. But he didn't. "Ungrateful." His mouth grazed the delicate pistons of his neck, nursing metal on his tongue like a split lip.

"Unworthy?" Even with his cock held fast in another man's hand the omnic managed to sound ironic.

"Of course." He answered so imperiously that he could nearly pretend he hadn't released the omnic's jaw just to tug his clothes free, knowing full well the risk that he would finish in his underclothes otherwise. One merciful moment later his dick was free and hot in his hand and springing back against the omnic's pussy at an obscene angle. _God_ , but he was soft. Wet, too, and becoming increasingly moreso with the contact.

Hanzo braced himself one-handed against the mattress. Then, with a long, languorous roll of his hips, he thrust up between that slick kiss at the crux of the omnic's legs until their cocks stroked together: hard, veined flesh against sleek chrome. A sigh hissed between his clamped teeth, heightened by a deeper murmur he knew came from within the omnic. Again, and again, and again, he rocked his hips with steady intent, feeling the air catch thick and heavy as smoke in his throat with every breath- and after a startled delay the omnic's body began to grind back in turn in a deliberate cross-rhythm, an exhale to his inhale.

If he'd wanted to come he'd have come already, quick and hard. God only knew, it was hard enough to keep from jamming himself into the omnic and stuffing him full on the very next thrust. But he had a point to make, and the omnic was already rewarding his patience by the second. He sank back against him little by little, making weak little sounds every time he bumped against his clit. And he was wet. More than wet, making such a mess of his dick that every downward thrust squelched obscenely in his lap.

"Is this what you wanted?" he hissed. Each stroke of his hips may as well have been the lash of a belt, licking hot, violent pleasure across both of their bodies. "Insolent creature...!"

At first it seemed that, between the gasps and the shudders, he would receive no reply at all. But then his voice came thrumming through the pleasure, static and stuttering. "S-still _selfish_ ," the omnic managed. "Y-you seek only v-vindication."

Hanzo's lip curled against the omnic's neck into an ugly, frustrated sneer, the way a dog bares its teeth before its strike, and again he considered flinging him down and fucking him, just as he had on their first night. But he was right. Of course he was right. Even if he weren't he knew only too well that he was drawing dangerously close to orgasm, all while the omnic squirmed and whined- without any sign that he might be anywhere close himself. So inscrutable, _so_...

With a small moan he dropped his hips, panting, back onto the mattress. By some wicked contrast, the omnic's recovery was almost instantaneous. He gave a contented little hum.

"Your pulse is racing," he commented. He settled back on Hanzo's hips, drawing a grunt of pleasure from his throat as the silky silicone of his crotch pinned his erection to his stomach. "How will you have me?"

 _Have me_. Did he read irony into the omnic's phrasing or was that his imagination, filling in the gaps with his own words? Regardless, if it was meant to give him pause for thought it had succeeded.

"I had hoped you would keep your thoughts to yourself this time. I should have known better." Hanzo's tone was cool. But then, more cautiously, he added: "On your side."

With a fluid wriggle and scarcely a backwards glance, the omnic obeyed. Stretched long and lean alongside him he could appreciate every intricate inch of him- all the way down to the wetness gleaming on those narrow thighs, the plump pout of cunt twitching between the metal. What he wanted to do was put his hands on him, explore every inch until his body yielded all the secrets it has to offer, but Hanzo stifled the urge and lay down onto the crook of his elbow instead. 

His breath misted the omnic's shoulder; when he reached down to separate his thighs, lifting them apart, his fingers left smudges on the chrome. As they parted the lips of the omnic's cunt opened ever so slightly with them, revealing the dark, slick hole within.

"Beautiful..." The word escaped him before he could pin it down, and he would have cursed his carelessness if not for the omnic's complete lack of a response, still and silent as a painting.

But he was already too far gone to be dissuaded now, slick and swollen with purpose. As if in encouragement he gave himself a couple of pumps with one hand as he positioned his cock into those soft, fat cunt-lips. They yielded around the head, squashed and slippery, before it found his entrance- and slipped effortlessly inside.

All this time he'd been wondering if he'd imagined the pleasure their night together have given him- if, in the aftermath, his desperation had made hours out of minutes. Now, though, the omnic's body welcomed his cock with the warmth of a receptive mouth, suckling every invading inch until finally he lay hilted behind him, a sweaty, breathless mess with scarcely more than a moan to offer in argument. 

Then he moved. Tentatively, at first, before his body remembered the rhythm they'd marked together and he began to thrust in long, wet strokes, each pounding the omnic's cunt to its limits- measured in their force this time, not enough to hurt, but still harder than he'd ever fucked another human before. 

Of course the harder Hanzo fucked, the more difficult it was for him to keep his form; in one confusing flash he pictured himself at fourteen, knees burning on the hardwood floor as his muscles seized with the pain of holding himself so still for so long. Now his grip on the omnic's thigh was slipping, weakened by the desire to touch as much as by his own helpless distraction. But the omnic was, as always, one step ahead of him. In another of those startling displays of insight he shifted until he could hook his thigh back over Hanzo's hip, leaving his fingers free to roam possessively, chaotically up and down metal and wiring, now curved into his hand. Without hesitation he gripped the omnic's cock and began to pump. However subtle, the change in angle was enough to ease his thrusts in even deeper and now _harder_ , with renewed fire. His muscles burned with the effort of keeping pace but it was worth it, every single second, just for the sheer rush of it- just for the sounds the omnic made, one hand curled delicately to where his mouth might have been-- as if that might keep his keens and gasps locked away. It did not.

A curl caught on Hanzo's lip, and he dashed it absently away with the back of his hand. At some point or another, he realised, his hair must have found its way loose, but that seemed appropriate somehow. Like those _bijin_ prints. It was luxury incarnate, this body- when he moved against it, into it, he felt as sinfully indulgent as if he'd spilled the finest _daiginjo-shu_ for the thrill of wasting it. He felt _drunk._ Yet between the grinding and the fucking his body was fast wearing itself out. Pressure pulled him crossbow-tight- the long, sinewy 'v' of pleasure spreading from his groin and straining harder still with every breath-- the blissful torsion in his gut that begged for a merciful release. 

It came. _He_ came, buried tight with a final slap against twitching silicone and blood roaring in his ears as if in triumph. Even as the strength slipped out of his body he pressed himself close, riding his orgasm out against the omnic's back in shuddering, jerking thrusts that urge that artificial cunt to milk him of every last drop. Only then, overfilled and spilling cum, did the last vestiges of control leave the omnic's body and tease out its own climax in a spurt of teal-white across the mattress- crying out in sweet, synthetic tones he'd never heard before.

And then it was over.

When he finally moved his body smarted in protest, the hard rhythm of his pulse beating dizzily in his eyelids and his throat as he edged himself back up onto one elbow. Right now he wanted a lit pipe and a bowl of sake, but he begrudgingly settled for a mouthful of the omnic's neck and tongued lazily at the pistons. It was not a kiss.

"As expected," he muttered indistinctly. His voice was hoarse from breathing so heavily for so long, which he pretended not to notice.

The omnic made a noncommittal sound and stretched, catlike, in what was not his embrace. "Such extravagant praise."

"Do not let it go to your head." Hanzo rolled over onto his back, relishing the space in which to move his tired body, and the omnic automatically followed onto his shoulder. That familiar sleepy calm was starting to creep back in. Briefly, he entertained the idea of closing his eyes now, still slick and sticky with their shared fluids, but it seemed so grossly improper that he resisted it. Besides, he still had something on his mind. "Are you satisfied?"

The omnic chuckled quietly against his skin. Absently, he realised that he was guiding one fingertip along the long, complex loops of his tattoo. "I should be asking you, Hanzo."

The sound travelled through him in sensitive little vibrations, and Hanzo might almost have been charmed were it not for how shamelessly his question had been deflected. A frown crinkled his brow. "You _should_ be answering me,"

"If I did," the omnic replied, "you would not like the answer."

"Answer me, omnic. Now."

There came a small pause. Hanzo was not sure whether the omnic was bracing himself, or whether he was granting his client a space in which to do so himself. 

"My body was designed to give and receive pleasure, no matter how selfish its partner. Most physical contact excites it." His voice was soft and faintly bitter. In some fit of almost apologetic affection the omnic wound closer about his body. "But you were gentler this time, and more attentive, and I appreciated it. I am always glad to be treated as more than a convenience. Gentleness," he added, "is not your forte."

Hanzo said nothing. It was true- he was not a gentle man- and it seemed difficult to begrudge the honesty he had personally invited, especially while he could still enjoy the afterglow. After a moment or two the omnic's finger resumed its path along his bicep, and he shivered approvingly into the butterfly-light contact.

"All dragons have their scales, I suppose. Such beautiful work," the omnic commented, and for a moment Hanzo did not know whether he spoke of the ink or the body into which it had been etched. Either option left him feeling oddly as though he had been stripped. "Beautiful, and terrible. It must have hurt."

Hanzo had been sixteen, and it had hurt. He remembered the artist's hand stilling the canvas of his arm as he punctured the skin again and again, painstakingly, with his needle, for hours at a time. He had not cried, knowing that his father's eyes were upon him also, though he also remembered Genji's teary whimpers some years later. _A man endures._

The tip of the omnic's finger drew along the dragon's bared fangs and down to his knuckles. "A dragon must be terrible," Hanzo said stiffly.

"Must it?"

"Must _you_ ask such inane questions?" Already he could feel that old frustration bubbling up from inside him like blood beneath an opened scab, salting his words with a venom he had not fully intended. "Enough. Be silent."

"If you had wanted silence," the omnic answered, "you would not have come to me. You chose my company; I am being a companion. Does that trouble you?"

Hanzo snorted; he did not have to force it, finding a fresh wellspring of contempt within him yet. "Save your pity for another man. This," and he gestured down at their bodies, still half-entwined, "is all that remains of this one."

But the omnic would not be stopped. Now that rogue hand curled tenderly at his cheek, tracing, with his thumb, the swollen bow of his lip- swollen by unreciprocated kisses, bites. "You could no more be an empty body to me than I could be to you. Does that truly frighten you so?"

"It is not _fear_ ," he snapped, but already he found that he did not have the energy to argue. Though he did not pull away his eyes wandered back down to the mattress before, bitterly, he added, "An omnic could not possibly understand."

"... no. I could not, could I?" The hand abruptly left his face. Hanzo looked back, startled into action, only to find that the omnic had already disentangled himself. "Impossible. How foolish of me, to assume otherwise."

Without another word he sat up, reached for the towel folded beside the mattress, and began to buff the wet stains from his hips and thighs. There remained in his body not a trace of that natural gentleness he'd thought intrinsic to its frame.

And in that moment Hanzo could have gotten up and left, immediately, without paying a penny; he was angry enough to, and, incredibly, he was embarrassed enough as well, flushed with disbelief as much as anything else. But some part of him already recognised that walking out would not have been the end. Sooner or later, he would have to slink back in with his tail between his legs to a frosty welcome he would receive with, not resentfulness, but desperate acceptance.

"I did not-"

"I understand your intentions completely," the omnic cut in. With infinitesimal care he folded the soiled down and replaced it. "Perhaps you misunderstand mine- but perhaps I am incapable of intentions, also."

"Enough," Hanzo sighed. "Enough." Finger and thumb massaged his forehead and temple, trying to loosen the new pain ready to seep into his skull. "You have made your point."

"I do not know if I have." Still, the omnic turned ever so slightly where he sat; as he moved the light skipped around the curve of his brow, casting a strangely sombre glow across its faceplate. "I cannot see why it should matter to you."

"I wish to sleep, and I cannot." A beat. He swallowed hard. "Without you here."

The omnic made a short, unimpressed sound that Hanzo recognised too late as a laugh, and it was enough to shrivel what pride he had left in him to the size of a raisin- but something seemed to change in his posture. He bowed, and lay at his side. "I apologise." The omnic sounded tired, and a little confused. "You have granted me liberties, and they have spoiled me."

"No," Hanzo insisted, now audibly unsettled, "that is not... I prefer you to have them." At the last second, he added, "You would bore me without them."

His conviction seemed even to his own ears somewhat uncertain. But it seemed to catch the omnic's attention.

"It is easy to indulge one without the means to disobey." The omnic shifted. Became still. Shifted once more, unable to lie comfortably. "Sometimes I wonder whether any part of me is my own anymore. I know that this form is transient, and that I should not resent it, and yet... I am imperfect. We all are. I must take comfort in that."

He turned again, until finally he lay with his faceplate tucked against Hanzo's collarbone. As he nestled closer the Shimada felt the scratches across his faceplate in new relief on his chest. "Comfort," he repeated. The word tasted sour on his lips. "You speak like a philosopher. Not a-"

"A whore?" Now, at least, he could hear humour in the omnic's voice, even if it bothered Hanzo that it should have mattered to him at all. "I suppose I do."

Some time passed, then. Long, luxurious moments spent in silence, broken only by the hummingbird song of servos peeling the omnic away from his embrace, temporarily, to clean Hanzo with a fresh towel. Each movement measured in its languor, its lazy eroticism; this time it skimmed across his senses without the distracting snag. He could enjoy it.

"I have paid for my time," he said, eventually, and was pleased to find that he sounded more like himself. A relaxed version of himself, anyway. "A full night's worth."

"Yes." Eyes closed, Hanzo tracked the omnic's voice across the room. As he drew near he rolled onto his side again to create a space for him. "You need not fear, Hanzo. I have no intention of shirking my duties."

" _Fear_..." He huffed. "Enough of that word. It has caused enough trouble already. Lie still, and, for the love of god, be quiet."

The laugh parted so unwillingly with its master that it was almost worth the way it turned Hanzo's insides over. The omnic lay still.

"As you wish. Good night, Hanzo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Bijin-ga_ are a subgenre of _ukiyo-e_ , Japanese woodcuts, that focus on beautiful women. One particularly common image in bijin-ga is the woman with a strand of hair caught in her mouth, which was considered to be particularly erotic.
> 
> 2\. _Daiginjo-shu_ is a form of highly refined sake.
> 
> 3\. I like the idea of the Shimada family's tattoos having been done in the traditional _irezumi_ style that the yakuza traditionally prefer to the standard electric needle type; generally it is done free-hand with a wooden handle and a needle, and as such takes far longer than other methods.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, subtly, things had changed. The old, grey chaos of his days resolved itself into something like order around their next meeting, which glowed among them as a diamond among coals, and suddenly Hanzo found himself entertaining that most rare of guests: anticipation. He hadn't, he realised, had either the cause or the heart to look forward to something since before his brother's death. Nor could he fully articulate what it was to which he looked forward. It was not so uncomplicated as the sex alone, yet the idea of ascribing his feelings to anything more than animal need was profoundly wrong. In the meantime it seemed less troublesome to ignore the finer details of his motives and simply live in the moment, even if such obvious misdirection rankled his better judgement. Had he not spent enough of his time letting the same miserable thoughts roll around and around his skull like loaded die, knowing full well that they could never land in his favour? For once in his life, he wanted to be unreasonable.

So he continued to move himself through the fog- drinking, listening to whispers here and there, understanding that his presence was and always would be a dangerous thing to make known, that there were still men out there who would take his head without a moment’s hesitation- until his self-discipline cracked. Then, as a fly to a web, he allowed himself to be drawn back into the velvet darkness of the omnic brothel once more.

Yet even before Hanzo’s sleepless eyes had finished raking the lounge from top to bottom he’d known there was something wrong- or, rather, some _one_ missing. 

With hindsight it seemed absurd to believe that he had ever taken these omnics for clones. Even a cursory glance between each individual frame and faceplate told him that _his_ omnic was nowhere to be found amongst them.

Unbidden, Hanzo felt his pulse begin to quicken. Even his limited experience could inform him of how high the turnover in these places was, and that it only got higher when the merchandise was so easily moved. So easily broken. He also knew that the bouncers would give him the same rote spiel about how they were busy, and that either he could look elsewhere or get out.

Hanzo chose the former option, after a fashion. The omnic he approached was more ambiguously built than his, with three threes on a thicker, more angular faceplate that fluttered with interest at his approach, though it did not greet him. Hanzo in turn wasted no time in getting to the point.

"The one with the nine lights. Where is he?"

The omnic watched him with its back to the wall. "Busy," it answered, finally. "Forget them. Spend some time with me instead."

A few weeks ago he would have taken the invitation as sincere. Now, though, Hanzo found he could reading boredom into its voice, droning out a tired old script, and already it felt too real, too human. It made his skin crawl all the more for it. He wanted to block his ears, but he steeled himself and drew even closer, voice low. "Is he with a client?"

Again, the omnic hesitated, though already it was shifting into something like surliness instead. "No."

Hanzo's eyes darted across the room and down the hallway he'd been led down twice before, to where he knew the omnic's room lay. The briefest of backwards glances showed him that the bouncers were, for the most part, distracted by one particularly inebriated guest, who seemed intent on pushing his luck to the very limits without risking ejection.

He saw his chance, and he stole it.

Hanzo was, if nothing else, still one of the most finely trained ninja of his generation. He slipped down the corridor, counting off closed doors until he approached the correct one, barely surprised to find that it was ajar. Privacy could be a dangerous thing, here, and as such was meted out only to their playing clients. A good thing, too. If it were not there was no way the room's soundproofing would have betrayed that second voice within.

In a space as enclosed as this he knew that, at any discreet distance, he would not have been able to pick up on more than a quiet susurration of conversation. Yet that did not stop him from edging closer and closer still to the doorframe in hope of catching whatever words passed between them. Their voices formed an odd white noise, a deep and familiar hum overlapped by something crisper and more precise. Finally, as he waited half-engulfed by the shadows of the hall- until, he chanced a stray glance inside.

Two omnics stood side by side within. One had his back turned but even so Hanzo knew him, he realised, by heart; just watching him he felt his fingers itch with the memory of cool plating and wires. The sensation did not linger, though, not with the second omnic to take in still, and they could not have been more of a stranger. It was impossible to conceive of it as another prostitute, for one thing. Taller, with a face plate finely sculpted into a mask of age and wisdom, it carried with it an air of profound dignity and grace- not the dancer's grace he had admired in _his_ omnic, but the kind that commanded a room. Even in its plain, loose ropes it effortlessly captured his eye and held it fast. One of its hands rested, fingers splayed, on the smaller omnic's shoulder, who, from the set of his head, seemed to gaze up at it with absolute and unyielding intensity.

Hanzo decided to dislike it on the spot. As it turned out, however, snap judgements were all he could have managed anyway. Barely a moment later the two omnics stepped together, embraced, separated- and suddenly the stranger was not only at the door but fixing him with a steady, unblinking stare that set the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Then it was gone.

Within the room, he heard _his_ omnic heave a sigh. It was all Hanzo needed to bring himself back to reality. Shaking off that alien presence he strode into the room as if it were his own, startling the omnic into a turn with a synthesised gasp.

“Hanzo! I did not-”

"Who was that?" They were not the words Hanzo had planned to open with but they bubbled up ahead of him like unruly children, intention be damned. No matter. This was not the first time he had been short with the omnic, and it would not be the last.

Apparently, the omnic did not see things quite the same way. After a moment of hesitation, he simply shook his head. "He is not a client." The omnic slipped towards him and seamlessly insinuated one arm around the crook of Hanzo's elbow. The other waved the door closed. "Please. Sit down with me."

With a whisper of surprise Hanzo realised that, in a bewildering reversal of roles, the omnic was being cagy. Oh, he may not have been so obvious about it as he knew full well he could be himself, but until now the omnic had never been anything but straightforward. The thought that he was being diverted- gently, but diverted nonetheless- threw him out of sync.

"Do not be obtuse.” Hanzo narrowed his eyes, though he could not quite free himself from the omnic’s gentle grip. “ _Answer_ me."

Perhaps he should have done. Almost imperceptibly, the omnic tensed. "I will not." His voice, too, had hardened, moreso than Hanzo had thought possible for such a gentle sound. It seemed incredible that, after everything to which the omnic had yielded, this would be the one request denied to him.

His expression must have spoken volumes, because the omnic averted his gaze after only a moment. “He is dear to me,” he continued, soft once more. “You do not know what you ask. He cannot be here.”

The tone of his voice left Hanzo strangely winded. “You are lovers,” he snapped, and somehow he did not expect the words to come out so accusatory as they did.

Nor did the omnic, apparently. “What?” He froze, then made a strange noise. Only belatedly did Hanzo realise that it was laughter. “No- no. I cannot put our affinity into words, but we are definitely not that.” Silence. The omnic’s chin jerked up. “You are not jealous?”

The question had, of course, been inevitable from the moment he made the accusation. He gave a little _hmph_ and shook his head, as if simply knocking his hair back from his eyes. “Vanity does not suit you.”

A tug drew Hanzo down onto the mattress but left him sat up on his knees, demanding little else. “Nor envy you,” the omnic answered dryly. “But have I not always been willing to see past your faults?”

“Numerous though they are.” Hands rummaged around the omnic’s clothing while he stretched with subtle, absent-minded movements that revealed to them every last tie and lace.

His robe rippled away from the mattress, half-thrown. “Oh, yes. One for every star in the sky.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Then you have paid for the privilege of suffering.” 

The omnic settled against his side, body thrumming in a way he had come to think of as oddly comforting. Hanzo made a small, amused huff, then closed his eyes, breathing slowly and evenly: in through the nose, out through the mouth. Years ago he meditated daily, first out of habit and then out of the need for some, _any_ , silence in an increasingly noisy life. This was not meditation, but it had something of the same effect upon him. When he lifted his head and placed one hand, briefly, on the omnic’s thigh, he felt calm and purposeful.

"On your back." The omnic obeyed: knees bent, back curved, thighs spread to gift access to the soft, sensitive place between them. A lifeline, he supposed, and one that had his cock twitching with interest. But Hanzo simply shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching with impatience and, admittedly, second-thoughts. "Difficult though it may be for you to do otherwise, I did not tell you to open your legs."

His insult did not even dent. The omnic made only a considering sound, the aural equivalent of a raised eyebrow, before lowering his legs all the same. Before now he had considered an omnic’s body to be all hard edges and angles, but everything about this one was smooth and subtly curved, right down to the smooth lengths of his legs. Now his body had only the one focal point: that cock, already half-erect. That was no good. Hanzo needed it rock-hard.

Sucking on what was for all intents and purposes a sex toy, no matter the appeal it otherwise promised, held little attraction for Hanzo. He took the omnic's cock in his fist instead and began to work it from base to tip, rougher than he knew he would ever have been with his own. It didn't matter in the slightest. The moment his hand closed around his dick the omnic's head hit the mattress and his hips bucked up, trembling, in a wordless plea for more.

“Y-you truly are,” the omnic managed, scarcely more dignified aloud, “intent on surprising me tonight.”

Intent, and then some. If it was as though he’d done this a hundred times already it was because he had, in a way; for days he’d played this scenario out in his head, eyes squeezed shut, grinding into his mattress, imagining firm hips beneath him as his fingers pressed tentatively into his ass. Now his hands were occupied with their own replacement: smooth shaft, rounded nodes, soft silicone. Surreal, to think that it would all be inside of him. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, and omnic lay still before him but for the occasional twitch of his cock, Hanzo stripped off his hakama and underwear. It came as almost a relief to feel his own erection spring needily against his own belly with the movement; in spite of himself he’d still been afraid his body would betray him at the last moment.

But there was no stopping him now. Mercilessly, he jammed first two, then three, fingers into the omnic’s cunt, so hot and soft about the intrusion that he almost reconsidered taking him all over again. When he withdrew a glistening thread connected them, slick and warm, before he spread his arousal generously along the length of the omnic’s cock. And again, and again.

Each time the omnic shuddered and gasped, but still me managed to prop himself up onto his elbows. “You will need more than that,” he warned, breathless even without breath to draw. “Or you will hurt yourself. There is a bottle in-”

Hanzo did not even spare him a glance. “Be silent.”

The truth was that, if it had been years since his last sexual encounter before the omnic, it had been even longer since he took on the receiving role. Another vision of himself sprang up behind his eyes, perhaps in his late teens, squirming around the strange fullness that spread into his belly. Not unpleasant, but not worthy of repetition either. How was it that this omnic had learned to conjure so many ghosts from within him, one after the other, like cards from a deck?

The _truth_ was that he felt incredibly exposed like this, even half-dressed, inexpertly straddling the omnic’s waist as he fumbled behind him for purchase on the slick silicone head. Every move Hanzo made bore the searing stamp of the omnic’s focus. The action slid his hips forward and arched his spine into an obscene curve, which in turn drew yet more attention to his own erection where it jutted up from between the open folds of his haori. Heat burned across his cheeks and down his neck in frustration as much as indignation, yet he could not bring himself to demand his partner look elsewhere. A few moments. They were all he needed to line the omnic’s cock up with the cleft of his ass, inch backwards, brace himself- and take it.

The omnic was right, it wasn’t enough- Hanzo heard himself grunt as the glans spread him uncomfortably wide- but he did not stop. _Would_ not. Not even when the discomfort gave way to a shallow burn as the ring of muscles within him fought against him to keep the omnic out. All the while he felt the omnic struggle to lie flat, and part of him hated him for it, for that gentleness that placed those long, metal hands across his thighs for support and for comfort. Hanzo would have slapped them away in an instant if he weren’t so focused on his unsteady descent. Finally the head breached him in its entirety and then some, cramming an inch or two more of sleek metal shaft into him than he expected, and for a second it stung enough to force a hissed curse from him and clench his abdominal muscles into a solid wall.

However brief the moment, it raised the omnic’s head and hitched his voice-box into a small whine. “Hanzo,” he implored, voice trembling, “please, be careful.”

_That_ did it- that concern, that pleasure, so honest. The sound of his own name. It relaxed him just enough to move his hips again, easing that cock out and then back in with slow, experimental movements. It didn’t feel good yet, but it would. He was man enough to brook some pain with his pleasure. All it took was another thrust for his hips to meet cool, curved metal and send triumph singing through his veins. When the omnic’s head rolled forward again Hanzo simply smiled down at him, cold and crooked and ever so slightly smug, as though he were seated on a throne rather than a robotic dick.

Now: to move. With another silent breath to steel himself all over again he began to grind up and down, slowly and deliberately. The pain had ebbed into the background of his senses already but his insides still felt tight and alien- much to the obvious pleasure of the omnic, who seemed to be waging an uphill battle against his desire to hold still. With his cock buried inside of him he could feel every anxious twitch as the omnic resisted thrusting of his own accord. Being fucked, rather than fucking. The distinction was important, to Hanzo at least, and the omnic’s helpless attempts to maintain it almost excited him more than the sex itself.

But perhaps that was a problem on its own. Rewarding though it was to make his partner squirm, his own body still felt uncomfortably tender; he shifted this way and that and still caught only the faintest flutters of _something_ within him. He could have cursed himself for his lack of experience were it not for those moments, when the omnic’s cock nudged sweetly up against him and shot lightning heat through his bones. Hard, harder, harder still. Hanzo moved with the force and focus of a man possessed, chasing that pleasure, leaking pre-cum onto the omnic’s chassis at the crest of every bounce but unable to care when the reward for his pains could be _so_ intense. 

Yet he was not an omnic. He was not made of steel. The muscles of his gut tensed and released, over and over, clenching about the intrusion, thighs pumping him up and down the slender shaft; already his feverish enthusiasm was starting to taking its toll, sinking exhaustion bone-deep through his lips, pain with those hot spikes of pleasure that curled his toes all too infrequently. Sweating.

Involuntarily, he whined.

“Hanzo?”

The spider’s touch of silky metal on his thighs brought him back to reality. Shivering, one hand gripping the mattress as if it were the only solid thing in the room, as though they were floating on some great ocean, the omnic gazed up at him in concern- but of the two of them he still had the better self-control, and it galled Hanzo. He could barely stop himself. The omnic’s erection fill him completely as he sank back, with his legs slung apart like a rag-doll’s and his cock bubbling cum in half-hearted defiance of his frustration. Hair tangled across his shoulders.

“Please,” the omnic said, easing himself gingerly up. “Allow me to pleasure you.”

There were a thousand ways in which he could have asked, most of them humiliating: _stop, this is embarrassing. You can’t do it. You don’t have the stamina._ But the gentleness of the omnic’s tone was, as ever, thoroughly mollifying. There was a deference ingrained into his voice that left Hanzo breathless every time he heard it, so sweetly warm and earnest that he could not help but bask in it, let it convince him that he was something rare and wonderful himself.

That voice was just about the only thing that kept Hanzo’s head high and the small, dignified huff in the back of his throat. “I… suppose so. If you even know how to please a man without filling your cunt.”

Completely undeterred, the omnic sat up. With Hanzo still straddling his hips it brought them alarmingly together, closer to that smooth faceplate than he had ever been. It could almost have been an embrace, were it not for the hands suddenly gripping his hips, or the subtle shift within him. It was too much for Hanzo, who immediately edged backwards as though he were on the opposite end of a seesaw, leaving his hips mounted on the omnic’s thighs and his elbows to prop him up.

Slowly, tenderly, the omnic began to fuck him. The difference was not immediately obvious to his abused insides, which still twitched at the omnic’s presence within, no matter how welcome it was. Only when Hanzo found his hips being held and lifted, the angle changed, did he truly feel it: _there_. Like striking a match in his belly, the omnic struck that elusive place within him that flashed sparks behind his eyes. His eyes shot open and his lips fell apart about mouthfuls of air. Within moments he found himself burying his face in his shoulder, clenching his teeth, feeling his entire body rocked back into him with every thrust. Could have stayed like that, too, were it not for the glance he spared the omnic, or the shame it lanced through him.

“Is that all?” he growled, and he could hardly recognise his own voice but for its scathing bite. “You f-fuck like-- like a priest. Harder, damn you.”

The omnic hesitated for only the briefest of seconds- just brief enough to startle him with his next arrhythmic thrust. “That is what you want?”

To Hanzo’s surprise, there was an odd, off-kilter quality to his answer; it was a laugh behind a sleeve, something doting and amused. He might even have had the sense to listen, were it not for just how deeply it bruised his pride to be the punchline to some secret joke.

“ _Harder_!”

This time, the omnic came suddenly and totally to a halt. Seemed to consider his options, head canted to one side like a silver songbird, before a solution resolved itself behind those knowing lights.

Then he moved-

all at once, in one of those long dancer’s gestures that seemed without beginning or end, rising onto one knee and supporting Hanzo’s hips and ass up with him in one enormous hand- effortlessly, as though he weighed little more than his clothes- until the Shimada found himself almost upside down. Yet it was only as the omnic curved himself down over his body and every last inch of that cock sank into his ass along with him that he realised just how immobile he was- and just how _sensitive_.

He must have looked alarmed, because the omnic’s free hand found his cheek and petted gently into his hairline. “You are quite safe in my hands. I assure you, Hanzo,” the omnic purred, the very image of poise above him, “if there is one thing I know how to do, without question, it is fuck.”

The sensation was all-consuming. If he had thought himself undignified before, the omnic seemed dead-set on proving just how much further there was for him to fall. Each downward thrust burned through his core, crushing the breath from him with sheer weight, before granting him the most temporary of reprieves and leaving him to gasp after that fullness again with lips already bitten to ripeness. _Harder_ , he wanted to demand again, _pathetic_ , just to make a point, anything more would rip him apart, but his words were lost to a throaty moan. Pinned between the floor and the omnic’s merciless attentions there was nowhere to go, and scarcely any more room to think on anything but his own pleasure, which had once seemed bottomless and now threatened to split him at the seams.

Hanzo came against a wall of metal and wiring and lights with tears prickling in his eyes- and on cue the omnic spent within him in a wave of heat and garbled static that could have melted into his body, filling his insides with pulse after pulse until he overflowed with creamy teal liquid.

Then: relief.

Gracious as ever, the omnic held his position for a few consolatory moments before releasing him. Hanzo hadn’t even realised that he’d been held so tightly but slid from the omnic’s lap without complaint, legs still splayed indecorously across his thighs until he found the mattress and steadied himself. 

Every muscle in his lower body felt slack and sore. As he rolled onto his side he felt artificial cum trickle down his thigh, kept warm by the heat of his belly, but when the omnic offered a towel he waved it away. For once, it hardly mattered. He felt as full and content as a lion after the kill. At his back fabric murmured across metal, and his imagination filled in the gaps with those long, sensitive fingers maneuvering the towel across and into every inch of his chassis, glistening wetly and smelling of sex. 

“I suppose,” Hanzo conceded smugly, “you were not a disappointment. I did not think a creature like you would have the guts.”

The murmur stopped and made way instead for a more incredulous silence. “Is that so?”

“Admit it. First and foremost, you were built to submit. I could take you to pieces in a night.” Then, when the silence stretched into farce and he felt his hackles begin to rise, he added, “You were _begging._ ”

“That you would take care of yourself.”

“But-”

“I am sturdier than you seem to assume,” the omnic interrupted. The lights across his brow flickered, a voiceless laugh, and Hanzo found himself oddly chastised. “And perhaps I say only what you would like to hear.”

He turned, frowning. “Then you wished me to take care only because it would please me to hear it,” he said carefully, unable to completely mask his disappointment.

“No. I truly was concerned. But you cannot deny, Hanzo, that you like to be begged.”

Hanzo thought about it.

“You have an answer for everything,” was all he said in the end, and although his lip curled it did not quite rise to the level of a reproach. “Be quiet and come here.”

Still laughing in his own, infuriating, endearing way, the omnic obeyed the order with an impressively subtle kind of defiance, as though he were doing so only for the sake of his client’s ego. Maybe he was. Regardless, once he had the omnic in his hands, it was difficult even for Hanzo to go on nursing his irritation. He exhaled through his nose and stared up at the ceiling, his attention focused on little more than the hand he kept petting the omnic’s flank.

A minute or two later his curiosity reared up again, without warning, but with its bite blunted and his tone humbled.

“Tell me about him.”

The mattress creaked with the omnic’s shifting weight as he fixed him with a steady, wary gaze. Hanzo held it. For once, there was no guile behind his asking. Maybe the omnic sensed that because after a moment he nodded and sank, reluctantly, back by his side.

“... we were created in the same omnium, for the same factory.”

“Like a brother,” Hanzo interjected, and found himself abruptly caught between his own warring emotions: petty jealousy and hope, yes, but also something he could neither name nor placate. Or rather, would _not_. If he were to be completely honest with himself-

For his part, the omnic only made a neutral sound against his neck. “In a sense. There are no words for relationships between omnics.” He waited for Hanzo to object, continuing only when he was sure he would go uninterrupted. “After it closed, we were separated. I never thought that I would see him again, much less that he would be free when I did.”

Little by little, speaking all the while, Hanzo realised that the omnic had weaved himself around his body, around his legs and through his arms until they tangled together in a complicated pile of limbs and skin and metal. Against the inside of his thigh he felt the omnic’s cock lying against his skin, his cunt-lips, invitingly warm but otherwise undemanding of his attention. Was it even conscious, he wondered, that eroticism? Or was it so deeply ingrained in him that it came as automatically to him as a sigh?

“He has been visiting me for a few weeks now,” the omnic continued. “For the last few months he has sought support amongst our kind across the continent, and, against all odds, his travels brought him to me. Fate has drawn us back together, Hanzo. I can feel it.”

At some point or another the omnic’s voice had taken on a soft, reverent quality, the kind of tones Hanzo associated with a temple before a cathouse- but his yakuza’s brain had already snagged on something else. “‘Seeking support’?”

Silence.

In the next moment the omnic was almost on top of him and seizing his robes. “Please--” His lights flickered in an uneven staccato rhythm. “You cannot tell a soul. You must not! If he were to become implicated in this…”

The omnic trailed off. The conversation was familiar to him. It had played out across his father’s desk, _his_ desk, with numbing regularity. On one side would sit some desperate, tear-stained individual, begging for prudence; on the other, Hanzo had often seemed to watch himself work as if he were his own spectator, all stony-faced indifference to whatever sob-story they had to offer him. With a start he realised that, now, for the very first time, he did not know what to say.

The silence strained beneath the weight of the omnic’s anticipation. “Why should it matter to me?” Hanzo said briskly, just to break it. The answer, of course, was that it should not have mattered to him at all- but the more he turned it over in his mind, the more he uncovered. Whatever this strange interloper had planned, it would inevitably involve the omnic strewn across his chest. Inevitably it would involve change, and freedom, and... 

He closed his eyes and reached around the omnic’s frame to rub at his temples. Even the thought of considering his options seemed exhausting. “I do not have much, omnic,” he finished, at length, “but I will give you my silence. For now.”

An imperfect answer by any account. He would not have countenanced it himself. Yet it was clearly enough for the omnic, who seemed suddenly set to prove that metal could indeed feel soft; he all but melted around Hanzo’s bulk as though he were built from liquid silk. “Thank you.” The omnic’s voice rumbled through his chest with the soft insistence of his own heart, seeming, for just a beat, to have always been there within him.

Needless to say, it put paid to whatever intention he’d harboured to slip away. After an acceptable amount of irritable fidgeting and wriggling he let his hand come to rest on the omnic’s back and sighed.

“First you will scarcely speak. Now you have me guarding a conspiracy. You were sent to test me,” he said wearily, “I am sure of it.”

The omnic, to his disappointment, did not laugh. In fact, when he spoke his voice was deep and pensive and, Hanzo realised, as troubled as he had ever heard it. “Perhaps you are my test. I have never been given cause to trust a human.”

At first, Hanzo said nothing. Only when some time had past, only when one hand had come to rest on the omnic’s hip and his thigh parted his legs, only then did he speak, quietly, into the crook of his neck: 

“Neither have I.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back in action! This chapter has been a long time coming wow. Apologies for the delay- I originally envisioned this as one long chapter, but ultimately decided it would be better split in two. Which means that the next chapter shouldn't take such a shamefully long time to come out... and will also be the last chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me!

In the dark and silent heart of the city, the most powerful man in Hanamura tapped a listless beat against the floor beneath his desk and stared. Before him some mid-ranking nobody whose name he had already dismissed from his thoughts was delivering news- figures, he supposed, from their various enterprises, legal and otherwise, or news on some other upstart clan’s movements. More and more of them emerged every day, and they all fused together into one vague and irritating distraction to consume yet more of his time and patience. Lately he seemed to be running short on both of those.

Somehow he prevented himself from rapping his fingers on the desk.

The man’s speech rattled to its conclusion, and in the moments of silence that followed Hanzo tracked a bead of sweat down his face, over the nervous tic of his left cheek. He waited. Then, with the air of the profoundly bored, he leaned forward. “Very well. Dismissed.”

The man all but jumped in place, eyes widened with disbelief. “But, sir, you haven’t-”

“I will give you my orders later,” Hanzo returned sharply, brute-quick as a gunshot. “You have been _dismissed_. Get out of my sight.”

 _That_ did the trick. Between the anxious haste of his bow and the stumble of his feet over the threshold he couldn’t possibly have seen the man’s back faster if he’d thrown him out personally- yet the time it took for the door to close behind him still seemed to stretch into an eternity. When, he wondered, had he started to count down the hours, the minutes, to his freedom like this? For that matter, when had “freedom” come to mean the omnic?

Because, god only knew, he was the only thing on Hanzo’s mind as he sprang to his feet and grabbed the suit jacket spread carefully across the back of his chair, all but yanking the tie from his throat and abandoning it among the chaos of paperwork strewn across his desk. Already he could feel those long, smooth hands cooling his cheeks and curling at his chest, lower and lower still.

Little wonder he scarcely noticed the door sliding open once more until a voice spoke up from the hallway’s shadows:

“You… aren’t going out again, are you, Shimada- _san_?”

There in the doorway, as lean and grey and thin-lipped as he had been since Hanzo’s very first memory of him, stood Sadao Shimada: uncle, advisor, and _wakagashira_ for the past two generations.

Hanzo paused, turned, and slid his arm into the remaining sleeve without taking his eyes off of the older man for a moment. “That is none of your concern.”

“Isn’t it?” Sadao’s voice was low and ominous, a dog growling in the back of its throat. It had not reached the level of a snarl yet, but they both knew how swiftly that could change, how quickly even the tamest of wolves could snap. Less a wolf, even, and more a jackal; the unfortunate accident of being a third son had twisted his uncle’s sense of honour a long time ago. All knew he was a scavenger at heart, but he was a clever one, and an asset that few were willing to lose.

He had taught Hanzo everything he knew about dealings with other men. He had also taught him how to lie.

“I will be back by morning. Call me if you need me,” Hanzo replied, knowing full well that his phone would be switched off, and that he could rarely bring himself to return before sunrise whenever he visited the omnic.

“Do you think I can keep covering for you forever, Hanzo?” the man asked, and the sound of his name rang through his bones with the precision of a drawn blade. If they were not family. If his blood were not his father’s blood, if, _if_ …

Hanzo’s hands curled into tight, hard fists. “Is that a threat?” he intoned.

“It is a warning. Like it or not, you are now the sole heart of the Shimada family.” Sadao’s eyes drew tight, almost vanishing between the dark hollows beneath and the great greying furrow of his brows. “Your place is here.” 

Hanzo could easily have huffed, then, quietly over his shoulder, made his feelings on his uncle’s disapproval clear without a word: _perhaps you are the one who should know your place_. Could have walked out without so much as the condescension of a backwards glance. 

But Sadao was far quicker than he, and had played these games for far longer. With the iron calm Hanzo had admired in him as a child, he added, “I would have thought you valued it, given the blood you spilled in order to claim it.”

It was as though the office had been plunged into deep, cold water. Heat flooded into Hanzo’s face and closed his throat, roared in his ears; the air seeped from his lungs, and for a moment he saw only the broad expanse of a younger man’s back sinking, shuddering, into a scarlet pool.

A blink, and the vision was gone. He could breathe. But the heat remained in his veins like liquid fire, and when he rounded on Sadao he knew instinctively that it must have showed in his eyes all glossy with fury and shame.

“You of all people have no right to condemn me,” he shot back, and when he tasted the hatred in his words he found he no longer had the discipline to swallow it back.

“No,” Sadao agreed mildly. Their eyes locked, and Hanzo saw himself reflected in that inscrutable darkness in miniature, wild and flushed and unprepared. “You have always been such an obedient son.”

Hanzo could have hit him then, square in that cruel, condescending mouth that his father had so often claimed was a part of his Shimada inheritance- a mouth he had never seen in his own reflection until these last few years. But his fist remained at his side, and, after a moment, unravelled itself back into a hand.

Sadao had no such compunction. Without hesitating, he asked, “Who is he?” To his credit Hanzo did not flinch this time- but he must have blanched clean instead, because the man gave a small sniff of contempt. “Come now, Hanzo. Your… _proclivities_ are hardly a secret at your age.”

It was not the nature of such idle speculation that grated so much as its existence in the first place- the very thought that his most private thoughts were grounds for gossip. Yet there was some relief to me found in Sadao’s insistence upon a _he_. If he had known about the omnic, its gender would hardly have been the real point of contention.

“The others may be willing to overlook your flaws,” he continued, when Hanzo did not, “but you test my patience, and soon you will test theirs, too.”

Hanzo’s jaw tightened. Anyone else might have missed it, but he felt the elder man’s eyes dart straight to the source with something like satisfaction. “We shall see,” he said, and even to his own ears it made for a flimsy answer and a still flimsier threat. And as he stalked around Sadao’s body, all but ramming his broad shoulders into that narrow frame as he passed, he could have sworn he felt the man’s watchful gaze follow him further than even the keenest of eyes could travel, out of the complex and into the dark, whispering embrace of the night.

*

In yet another display of that uncanny empathy of his, the omnic did not say a word between the lounge and the privacy of their room. Their eyes had met across poor lighting and a passionless clutch of bodies for only a second before they moved, together, to the hallway and beyond.

Only in the safety of the omnic’s room did Hanzo allow himself the luxury of relaxation. He stretched himself, feline, and took quiet satisfaction from the little _crack_ that resulted from his neck and shoulders. More pleasingly still, he could feel the omnic’s gaze linger tellingly across his body where the movement parted his shirt, already loosely buttoned.

“Have you missed me, omnic?” Hanzo taunted. On impulse he slid one hand lazily between the shirt and his skin, stretching the fabric wide enough to tease the warm expanse of muscle and more than a glimpse of the pinker, more tender flesh.

Nothing, in that moment, seemed more satisfying than watching the omnic react: head twitching up, hands flattened on his waist in an instant as he drew himself flush to Hanzo’s body, faceplate coming to rest against his clavicle. “More than you know,” he murmured, all warm, deep comfort. One finger traced a line up his flank, along firm, toned curved until they found his nipple and circled it, like treasure on a map. “I have so much to tell you...”

In their first nights he might have stopped him there; now Hanzo found that he could tolerate the omnic’s fancies without reservation. Entertain them, even, and even enjoy it. But it had been a long day, and in spite of everything he found he was shaking his head. 

“Later,” he insisted. His lips touched the omnic’s brow and then, with a nuzzle to shift him into place, the smooth lip of his faceplate where gold met silver. “I have been waiting for you all night.”

“Then, please,” the omnic said. “Allow me.”

The omnic’s hands were quick and clever, Hanzo knew, but he worked slowly this time. First to go was the jacket, out of which he peeled him with the utmost physical contact, palms drawn along his chest and upper arms before he placed the item in a neat pile at the foot of the mattress. Next to go was the shirt, button by button at both chest and wrists, and Hanzo could not resist giving a lithe little wriggle to rid himself of it completely. He knew the way his body moved, how the muscle rippled beneath his skin, the dragons wriggling like living things as his arm folded and relaxed. They vanished temporarily beneath the omnic’s fingers, and as his heart fluttered in agitation Hanzo found himself humming a warning to get him back on track.

Lower. The omnic knelt. All the while his optic sensors remained downcast in some show of deference, so ironic as to be amusing, as though he were not stealing every opportunity to touch him through each layer of clothing. His hands rested briefly on the jut of his hips before setting to work at the fly to draw down his suit trousers. However briefly Hanzo had toyed with the idea of dispensing with underwear altogether before coming here, but now he was glad it didn’t stick; like this he could enjoy the long, slow tease of fabric across his increasingly sensitive skin and over the half-swell of his cock, which bobbed obscenely as the waistband released it.

Long metal fingers brushed lightly through his pubic hair, just short of the base, drawing a shaky sigh from his throat- a sigh that lengthened seamlessly into a moan as he found his dick pressed to the deliciously cool surface of the omnic’s cheek. “E-enough. Get up.”

 _His_ clothes, at least, were far easier to dispense with. It took Hanzo only a few strategic tugs to loosen the robe from the omnic’s body and fully unveil that cock, and the sensitive little split of silicone beneath.

He waited for the omnic to ease into his embrace, perhaps hook a thigh around his hip and press that hot, soft place up against him. Instead, the omnic looked up at him with his head at a quizzical cant. “You are tense, Hanzo.”

“I am always tense.”

“Moreso than usual.”

Somehow, he could find neither the energy nor the inclination to argue. “I have had,” Hanzo relented, “a trying day.”

The array of dots across the omnic’s forehead flickered, and for a moment it was easy to imagine a furrowed brow there, or pursed lips at the seam of his faceplate. “Then… might I suggest an alternative to the obvious?”

“I _like_ the obvious,” Hanzo muttered back, a touch petulant- but despite himself his curiosity had been piqued. The hand that had slowly but surely been making its way down the omnic’s spine stopped at his ass. “What are you planning?”

The omnic shook in his arms with quiet laughter. “Your face! There is no need to be so wary. You will like it,” he promised, “and if you do not, you can fuck me afterwards.”

The word shot straight through his spine and into his dick with an unsubtle _twitch_. Something about hearing the omnic speak so bluntly, in that soft, serene voice-

“Fine.”

Guided by light touches Hanzo knelt on the mattress. As he sank forward there came that old flicker of suspicion coiling like black smoke in his stomach at the thought of his vulnerability, of what a broad target his back would make. He suspected it would never leave him. But it also came with the curious little realisation that he trusted this omnic with it, or at least wanted to.

The smooth warmth of the omnic’s hands- and it scarcely came as a surprise anymore to find them _smooth_ and _warm_ \- met palm-first with his shoulder blades. From the moment they began to move it was obvious they were guided as much by experience as the uncanny sensitivity that seemed embedded into the omnic’s core. Beginning in slow, firm circles, led by his thumbs, the pressure widened into a deeper massage that sank into his muscles. As metal fingertips probed a knot he had not even realised existed Hanzo sucked in a soft, sharp breath- and forced himself to settle down again, in what he knew would be understood as a silent demand. _More_.

Of course, even those talented hands could not disguise the way that, inch by inch, the omnic was working his skilful way down his spine until he massaged into the dimples of his back, subtly palming his ass before sliding back up to safer territory. Safer, but also, he decided, somewhat more disappointing. Some quiet, demanding part of him, the dragon charmed into docility, willed those clever fingers back down again, lower and lower, until they teased their way into the cleft of his ass and-

Wait. What _was_ the omnic doing?

At first he’d written the little movements the omnic’s hips into his body as incidental. As he reached out, Hanzo had decided, of course he had to lean this way and that, move rhythmically with each shift in position. But there was no mistaking it now: that gentle rocking motion into his thigh, the shudder at the crest of every stroke, silicone lips parting against skin and muscle until he felt the delicate little nub of the omnic’s clit grinding into him over and over. It was _deliberate_.

Hanzo could almost have laughed. Or choked, because he wasn’t sure he’d ever been the cause of such an outstandingly shameless display. Spared by his dignity, he instead hummed. “Is this a part of the service?”

It was not strange, to hear the omnic gasp and his voice fracture as he answered, “N-no, I- I do not-- not like this…!” What was strange was that Hanzo believed him. _Could_ believe that he was that appealing to the omnic as more than a convenient paycheck.

True, his attention was starting to waver; his hands could not quite move with their usual sleek grace, servos locking and jumping at the crest of each stroke. But the noises he made, the way he felt that delicate, trembling frame sink towards his back with every passing second… how could Hanzo possibly hold the distraction against him when he was being serviced so sweetly?

That he did not hold it against him did not dissuade Hanzo from suddenly, wickedly lifting his hips into the omnic’s next thrust. And, god, but it was worth it to hear the omnic gasp- to feel the way he jerked above him, forehead suddenly pressed between his shoulderblades in trembling defeat.

“Y-you,” the omnic said, “are incorrigible.”

Hanzo surprised himself, then. He laughed- a real, full-bodied laugh that had the omnic whining a faint protest as its force sent aftershocks through his body. “Then you have finally met your match,” he said, and found that he was still smiling even afterwards. He paused. “I have never been called ‘incorrigible’ before.”

As a teenager he had been _a credit_. Worse still, _an example_. In those days he’d always been faintly jealous of the various reproofs his brother had received instead, never delivered with any real conviction and always with a hint of admiration instead- he was _roguish_. 

“I think,” he said, drinking in the way his voice had curled itself into insolence, “you have touched me well enough, omnic. Or should I say, ‘touched yourself’?”

There seemed, in that moment, no prettier sound than the omnic’s laugh, low and startled, as he answered, “How could I possibly resist you, Hanzo?” and the wavering sibilance of his voice destroyed whatever friendly irony it might once have held.

It was a relief to be able to roll onto his side and release his cock from where it had been trapped, fat and pulsing, between his stomach and the mattress. To the omnic’s credit he did not collapse immediately as Hanzo could so easily tell he wanted to, but rather fell to his side with the kind of control he more naturally associated with the most talented of geisha. But geisha did not fuck- and there was no ambiguity to the way the omnic curled to his back. As one arm propped him into Hanzo’s far larger bulk the other snaked over his hip to claim his cock. In quick, light flicks he began to work the length from base to crown- and his own phallus _through_ his thighs, rutting idly into their soft, firm squeeze, artificial pre-cum smearing across his skin with every thrust.

What Hanzo did not anticipate was how closely the omnic clung to him through those final moments together, the way he buried his faceplate into the dark tangle of his hair and keened, softly, through a climax that could only have been attuned to his own with how suddenly it came upon them both: heat, pleasure… and silence.

Still hypersensitive, still uncurling his toes and unballing the fists the omnic had made of his hands, Hanzo exhaled. In these precious moments it always felt to him as though he were breathing newer, purer air.

It was the omnic who spoke first. “Oh, Hanzo.” There was infinite care in that murmur, and something quieter that he could not put words to but which made him glance back. The lights of the omnic’s jieba were the only thing he could see of his faceplate, pulsing with a delicate light.

Somehow, in the heat of the moment, he seemed to have twined their legs together; one long silvery foot hooked daintily about his ankle, the other flush to Hanzo’s in a way that almost made him wonder where one body ended and the other began.

Extricating themselves was a slow process, but Hanzo let himself be maneuvered this way and that without complaint until they together more comfortable, face to face. With an absent-minded care the omnic threaded his fingers through his hair and sent a warm shiver of sensation through his scalp where the roots tugged, ever so slightly, stroked over and over again. That old peaceful feeling came creeping over him, left him feeling like a cat rolling over to be petted- until, that is, there came a sharp _tweak_ half a second later as the omnic plucked out a single strand of hair.

He was upright in an instant, eyes wide and accusing.

“ _What_ -”

“Silver hairs!” The lights on the omnic’s brow flickered in amusement as he held out the hair. “You will be grey before you turn thirty five.”

“Hmph.” Scowling, he seized the offending wrist and pinned it, along with the rest of the attached omnic, to the mattress again. “Is that a prediction?”

“You will make quite the silver fox.”

“If I do, it will only be for your incessant cheek having driven me there.”

And it was almost worth the sting to his pride to hear the omnic laugh, then, bright and deep and candid as he let himself be pulled back down onto the sheets and tangled up in long hands and longer legs. 

Hanzo settled comfortably on one side. Lazy now, he fondled the omnic’s sex, still twitching eagerly even after so much attention. Worrying his clit with fingertips worn rough on his Stormbow, pinching, stroking, while the omnic rewarded him with a static whine. 

“Better,” Hanzo muttered, “than the real thing.”

Here he waited for the omnic, still trembling in his embrace, to laughingly protest, and when he spoke he _did_ sound faintly amused- just not quite in the way he expected.

“Do you think of my body as ‘unreal’, then? It seems real enough while you are inside of it.” The omnic hummed pensively, bringing his fingers to where Hanzo’s sank into his body, fucking languidly into the mess of fluids. “Perhaps this part of me was made in imitation. B-but-” his voice hitched, caught, continued- “- but it is mine nonetheless. Does that not make it real, in its own right?”

Something told Hanzo that he wasn’t just talking about sex anymore. With more than a touch of surliness, he huffed, “Only you could be philosophical about a cunt. At any rate, it belongs to the brothel, not you.”

“For now.”

“Hm.”

Perhaps sensing his ambivalence, the omnic snuggled back into his body, small and lean enough to vanish completely against Hanzo’s greater bulk- and of course it worked, he was too canny for it to fail. Somewhat reluctantly he withdrew his fingers and wound his arms around the omnic instead, loosely but intricately, one hand clasped in the delicate cables and pistons of his waist. The other sought out one of the omnic’s hands.

“Will you rest here for a while?” the omnic asked quietly.

“For a few hours.”

“Good.” With a small gesture, the omnic dimmed the lights in the room to a twilight glow. Yet it was only as he let his eyes close and his breathing deepen that Hanzo heard his voice one more time, as intimate as the wind against his ear. “Thank you. For letting me feel alive.”

And from the darkness, another voice, a stranger's, answered: "You are."


End file.
